Requiem
by Lone.L
Summary: Oneshot. Out of the mourning, grief and tears comes relief in the fact that they still have each other, and nothing will change that. From the entrancing dance springs eternal hope. A new song will be written on Munich's streets.


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**Requiem**

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_Ta tata ta ta tatatata ta ta tata tatatata ta tata tata ta tatatatatata ta  
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_Ta ... ta tatata_

The speed of the clapping increases suddenly, in perfect harmony with the drums and guitar, and as the pace speeds up, so does the dance. Feet tap rapidly, hands rise and fall in blurs, threads twang swiftly, hands come together in swift movements until they begin to sting, eyes dart back and forth quickly. The rhythm is ever-increasing . A swirl of white flutters in the wind, in the midst of a spin; the beat gets louder, faster. Nearby, the picture rests against the slab, and all around, onlookers stand at attention, wanting so badly to dance along, but realizing the somber nature of the situation.

In a single motion, flawlessly executed and angelically performed, she whirls across the stage created by the spectators, hair flying. Her feet slap the ground in unison, matching the beats of the music. She bounces to each rise, dips to each fall.

Thundering, dashing, the music quickens and booms, until it reaches a crescendo.

Then, with a pause and three more loud claps, it comes to an end.

She halts in the center of the whirl and raises her hands above her head.

Suddenly, it all stops.

One by one, the onlookers approach, stop to pay their respects, and silently leave. The line shifts with each passing second, each staying for a few fleeting seconds, until, after all have left, three remain.

Her fluttering white dress returns to a calm piece of fabric as she stands over the grave with clenched fists. The woman bends and places her hands on her knees, stooping to bring her face closer to the engraved marker. Her mahogany eyes are filled with tears, and her head hangs, allowing her beautiful russet hair to fall mercifully around her face and act as a cover. She weeps silently for a few moments, the world coming to a halt around her, until two others come to stand in the background. Their approach is heard, their presence felt, but she does not turn to greet them.

The brothers stand with hands in their pockets, horrifically sad expressions on their faces. Both want to cry; neither can. They are allowing her to do it for them, so that the requiem will truly expand from one for his life to one for their sadness, and they can do their best to leave it behind them.

When, after countless minutes, the river of tears finally stops flowing, she slowly faces them, and the elder one steps out toward her. His blonde hair is pulled firmly back into a ponytail, which rests against his upper back. Gone are his coat and brown vest; in their place are the proper clothes of a funeral. His posture is slightly slouched, but he is never one to let the weight of the world bring him down, and so he does his best to stand upright. Fittingly, there is no wind on this day. His arms hang limply at his side, for he knows no other place for them, and his hands are buried deep in his pockets. His mouth is firmly set in that sad smirk, as if the irony of the situation is eating away at him. The golden eyes, so often radiant, are faded and empty, a signpost of his weariness.

The younger is similar in appearance. His hair has been cut, leaving the short crop of a young gentleman. He, too, wears a suit and pants and looks forlornly at the ground, unaware of what to make of life at the moment. His almond eyes are blank.

They stand silently for a moment, exchanging only looks, yet no words. The graveyard is full of slabs as gray and obsolete as the one they stand before, but this one is different. It is fresh. The gorgeous flowers lying in front of it add color to an otherwise dim and lifeless scene.

She composes herself and moves closer to the elder brother.

Their eyes meet.

He does not smile, or offer words of comfort. Those are best saved for later.

Finally, the wind slowly picks up, and her hair is buffeted around her.

He withdraws a hand from his pocket and reaches it out to her. She stares numbly at it.

He tells her that it is okay to feel sadness, to grieve. That the world is a cruel place, and these things are normal. That their friend, so newly laid to rest, will always be with them, and that they owe it to themselves to move on--for his sake.

She tries to stem the new flood of salty tears, but they come forth anyway. She stretches out and takes his hand, and he wraps it firmly around hers.

She tries, so desperately tries to stop it, to avoid seeing what lies in his thoughts as she always does, but it is to no avail. It gushes in, regardless of her attempts, and she feels it: the contents of his heart.

It is pure, unadulterated remorse.

Emptiness.

In a swift motion, he pulls her close, embracing her, yet not truly holding her. He whispers in her ear that he and his brother have each other, and though their anguish stretches beyond reason, somehow they will be able to make it.

And he offers himself to her, promising that he will be there for her support as well.

_Tata ta ta tatatata ta tata ta ta tatatata ta_

She smiles, and although it is still laden with sadness, hope penetrates the dark cover of her grief.

The trio departs, keeping their lost friend foremost in their minds, but not daring to look back at what lies there. The wind dies once more, leaving an empty clearing littered with gravemarkers and tainted by the sound of receeding footsteps.

The song, it seems, still lingers.

The streets of Munich are busy, yet quiet. The two brothers and the exquisitely beauteous woman pass along the sidewalks unnoticed, unsure whether the world is passing them by or if it is quite the opposite. Neither hand has let go, and they are still interlocked. He leads the way, and she follows two steps behind. The quiet is unnerving. They move past buildings slowly, one by one, until they all start to look the same: tall, with light-colored walls ranging from white to faded yellow, double-doors crafted from wood and stained black, and half-open windows.

He stops for a moment, and both the woman and his brother halt, slightly confused, their faces questioning. He turns and grins genuinely, and tells her that her dance was as beautiful as she is. She looks at the ground humbly, attempting not to blush, as he continues.

Now that they are stuck in this world, they have only her and each other, he says. He finishes by reminding her that she has been through a lot with him, and he isn't going anywhere soon—there's no way he can.

The fact that he refers to himself and not his brother as well does not go unnoticed.

_Tatatatata tata tatata ta tatatatatata ta _

The sun has begun to set. An orange glow is cast over the city, falling across the walls. In the sky, pink meshes with purple and blends with yellow and orange. The few clouds remaining are shadowed by the elegant light, turning the heavens into a portrait of radiance. Three faces light up with smiles. A breeze wisps through the Munich air, but it is small.

They reach their apartment, and he opens the door for the other two to go in.

She leaves him with a thank you, a delicate squeeze of her hand, and a tiny kiss on the cheek.

He follows them in, wearing a suit and a large blush.

The door closes behind them.

Maybe she will dance for him one day, but the garments she wears will not be those of mourning.

_Ta..._

_Tatata_

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**_Fin_  
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**A/N: **Ah...I hate to say it, but I think EdxLust might have to be relegated to the background for a while, because I'm now possessed by the possibilites of the completely right EdxNoah thing. I love it! XD, but seriously, I am slowly getting inspiration from random things around me, and writing this just makes me happy.

I'm sorry to disappoint all of you who have said that you love my style of writing because of the imagery. Don't worry, I promise after this one I will return to that! Honest! In this one, though, I went for situational references and the music instead. Hopefully it worked just as well for me, although, rest assured, imagery is still my forte.

I love the song Requiem from the movie (obviously, what Noah dances to at Alfons' funeral), and my iTunes play count says 171 times. No joke. So I wanted to write a fic to go along with it. I've said that I will do an Alfons tribute, but this is not it. Don't worry, when I do, it will be totally centered on him, not Ed, Noah and to an (unfortunately) lesser extent, Al.

I really do appreciate each and every person who reviews.

Also, my apologies for this reposting, but a small error had been brought to my attention, and it is now fixed.

Just made another edit, sorry. It's almost unnoticeable, but it makes the story feel better.

**LL**


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